Finding a Lark
by iluvobiwan91
Summary: Starting a series of one-shots with this head-canon now. Bucky and Steve are in a cabin in the mountains someplace b/c Steve think it will help to rehabilitate Bucky slowly (post-Winter Soldier). They meet a woman named Lark, and this would be the very beginning of anything. Prequel to "Winter Greens and Slow Dancing" and "Bucky's Baby Girl"


The sound of a gun's report spooked her horse, and Lark whipped around with her rifle aimed at the source, letting the mare trot off a ways while her eyes focused on a dark figure with a shotgun. They stood silent and unmoving for a while. She understood his was a warning shot, but she expected him to at least curse at her or say something, so she kept her 12 gauge up and well aimed.

"Bucky!? _Hey_—" Suddenly another man came out of the woods and stopped short of their stand-off, looking alarmed. "What— what's going on?"

Lark took the opportunity to speak up now that someone else was inclined to respond. "He fired the shot in warning, I'm just passing through." Still guarded, the woman cut her eyes over to the blonde and then returned them to the threat.

"It's 'no trespassing.'" Finally he spoke.

"I'm sorry. I didn't see any signs, and I'm just passing through, now." Keeping her voice even, Lark slowly lowered her rifle and watched him hesitate before doing the same. "I usually make this trip every couple years, and… your _property_ used to be abandoned." Slinging the gun over her shoulder, she turned and walked over to her horse who was now waiting behind a few trees in what she thought was safety. "_Good girl_, Dakota." Praising gently, the woman took the lead rein and came back over to the men. "I'd stay over and make camp in the yard with that fire pit. Dakota liked the grass that didn't' get mowed." Shrugging, she gave an apologetic smile.

"It's not a problem. We just bought the place a couple months ago, and there _are_ no 'no trespassing' signs." The blonde gave his friend some serious side-eye, and had an apologetic smile on his own face. He stuck out his hand and gave hers a friendly shake. "I'm Steve."

Put mostly at ease, she smiled genuinely. "Hi, I'm Lark." Looking over to Steve's friend, she gave him a respectful nod, and actually earned a nod back.

"Listen, you can still stay the night. We've been cleaning up a lot, and there's couple extra bedrooms. I bet Dakota's been looking forward to that grass, and we could use a mow." Steve made her laugh, and Lark rubbed affectionately on her horse's dapple-grey neck.

"You know what, that sounds great, as long as I'm not a burden. People tend to really stock up around these mountains, and if you're just a couple months' in, I'd hate to eat any of your store." Looking between them both, her eyes mainly found the other man's (_Bucky's?)_, hoping not to get on his bad side again.

Surprising both Lark and his friend, Bucky crossed his arms with the shotgun aimed safely away before answering her. "We brought plenty of food to store. There's enough if we need it." She guessed this was his version of an open invitation, judging by his demeanor, thus far, and Lark wasn't going to waste it.

Bucky led the way back through little-used trails while Steve and Lark walked with the horse, occasionally laughing when Dakota made _Steve_ jump by being playful and nipping at his hands. It wasn't hard to find out he was a city boy. There was a creek that ran behind the actual 'yard' of the place, and Lark led her mare over to take the tack off while she drank her fill. The saddle and packs were heavy with her camping supplies, and though she was strong enough to heft it and limp along a ways, it was Bucky who took the tack and brought it over the back of one shoulder, as though it were a child's backpack. Steve only shrugged and walked on when Lark looked at him with a brow raised in shock.

"I'm just gonna rub her down, I'll be there in a minute." She called after them and saw each man turn their heads before Steve hollered back and asked if she wanted a beer. "Sounds great!" Lark took off her jacket, hot now that they'd been hiking awhile in the sun, and lovingly massaged and brushed a very appreciative horse. It was several minutes later when she caught sight of Bucky walking toward her again. She smiled up at him from where she was stretching Dakota's front leg. "You got that beer?"

With a nod, he handed her a dark bottle and she stood stiffly to receive it, scratching Dakota idly with one hand while she took a drink and sighed. While he walked slowly around the horse, Lark got to take a good look at him and decided he was much more handsome without the gun. His hair was a darker brown than her own, a bit longer on top and front, but cut close everywhere else. He had a scruff of a beard, not quite full in, but the mountains seemed to do that to everyone. Before she could study much more, Bucky's eyes caught hers like lightning and surprised her with the brightness of their blue.

Until he spoke, Lark hadn't realized he was at Dakota's head letting her happily munch nibble at his hands while he stroked her face. "I'm sorry for the shot."

"As long as there's no hard feelings, I think Kota's all calmed down now." Reassuring, Lark threw an arm over her girl's withers and leaned on her to face him.

There was a tight smile on his face, not a natural thing. "No, none. I just…" He broke eye contact with her, not entirely comfortable. "I don't handle surprises well." He grimaced.

Lark couldn't help the look of sympathy in her eyes, but hid it by looking down at her drink. She knew he wouldn't want it. "Well, we'll see how much trouble we can get into tonight. And I'll try not to surprise you anymore, unless it's my taste in music." Giving him a warm smile seemed to loosen him up just a fraction, and Lark moved to gather up her jacket and turn toward the house. "You can stay out with her for a while, if you want. She likes the attention."

"She's a good horse." He said as he gave her one last pat and came around to follow Lark.

"She is, isn't she?" A fond smile softened her face as she glanced back at Dakota, and then turned to Bucky as they walked side by side. "I'm Lark, by the way. Lark Elizabeth Townsend." Trying really hard not to over-do it, she threw a little charm into her look and held his gaze until he had to look away.

"James Buchanan Barnes. Steve calls me Bucky." His really lovely eyes stayed fixed on his boots as he spoke.

"Do you _prefer_ Bucky? I like the sound of 'James.'" He looked more like a 'James' to her.

Bucky glanced up at her, murmured softly. "You can call me whatever you like."

Grinning and encouraged, Lark stuck a hand in her jeans' pocket and picked through the tall grass a little, wavering closer to him every now and then. "All right, James."

That evening was one of the most pleasant she'd enjoyed in a long time. Steve put steaks on the grill, Lark marveled at the fact he had fixed _seven_, and then was speechless as she watched the two men put away three each, along with fixings she had helped James to cook in the humble kitchen. Now coming up on autumn, there was a comfortable chill in the evenings and they took advantage of the fire pit that Lark had mentioned using before.

"It's good to be at a fire and not alone." Lark took another drink of another beer, but was trying to pace herself. Steve and James had been drinking, too, but they didn't seem much affected, and she didn't want a buzz if they weren't getting one. Steve had a question on his face at that comment, and her smile was more reminiscent of the grimace Bucky had given her earlier. "Like I mentioned, I take this trip every year or two. I used to make it with my Dad, then just my brother, Levi. And it's been a couple years since I've come up this way, because now I don't have Levi to make it with me."

Slowly, she set down the bottle and tucked her legs under her in the cushioned lawn chair. Her own blue eyes were sparking different colors as she looked into the fire. "Levi was a marine, a sniper. I was so proud of him, and he was a great man. I'm still proud to be his little sister…" Lark glanced at James to find him studying her intently, and she mustered a sad smile to come to this part of the story. "His girlfriend wasn't able to handle the P.T.S.D. when he came home on honorable discharge. And when she left him he struggled on for a while, and I checked in on him often. But I found him with a gun in one hand and a lot of blood on his pillow." With a shaky breath, Lark wiped her eyes quickly and sat up a little straighter.

"I'm sorry, Lark. I can tell by the way you talk about him how much you loved him." Steve was there with condolences, and they were sincere.

"We were really close. And I know you both were, or are, in the service." Both men snapped their heads to her in surprise, but Steve seemed resigned with the fact fairly quickly. Lark smiled as if to let them know their secret was safe. "I can tell. And I can tell you've both seen a lot of things you wish you could forget. I know what that does to a man, and I hope that if you've got to go through the worst of it, that you keep going." Standing up carefully still gave her a head rush, so she closed her eyes a moment to right herself and felt a strong pair of hands take her arm to steady her.

"Lark, you had a few…" James' voice was low, discreet, even.

"Yeah, it's not too bad." Trying to shrug him off gently didn't budge the man, so Lark accepted his help. "Could you take me to my room, please?" His brow was furrowed and his face darkened by the shadows of the fire, but there was no menace there, only concern when he nodded. Lark touched Steve's shoulder as they passed by and murmured a 'good night' to him, which he answered softly. These were good men.

By the time they reached the stairs, James had one hand on her forearm and the other at the small of her back, guiding her when she missed a step in the dark. Lark laughed quietly at herself, but more with frustration. "I didn't plan on drinking so much. I guess I thought you'd both be a little closer to drunk with me." They were at the hallway to some bedrooms now, and she realized it really was a big house.

"We don't get drunk." James said deeply, and Lark thought she might have felt his chest speak the words with how it rumbled against her arm. "They… _did_ things to us, when we were fighting. Changed us to make us stronger." They paused outside a door to let him open it and lead her inside. "Steve and I can't get drunk anymore. We've tried."

"Oh." She murmured quietly as he helped her out of her jacket and into a bed that she couldn't care less was made with already rumpled sheets and a blanket on the other side, which he pulled over her. Lark looked up at the man and saw so much in his face that it looked almost like a storm. Levi's face would look like that. His positive emotions would clash with the negative that were stronger, and while he fought to make new, better memories, images of his horrific past would hold on too tightly. Sometimes it felt like she could hear the thunder in his thoughts, and she certainly knew when lightning struck.

"Thank you for telling me that, James. You didn't have to." One of her hands moved slowly to hold his wrist that lingered at the blanket, and his pulse raced beneath her fingers. When he slipped away his arm was the last to leave her, as though he were savoring the touch. "Good night, James." Calling softly to him at the door, she only heard a quiet, deep sound in answer before he shut it.

Bucky returned to Steve's side by the fire, saying nothing for a while. As always, Steve broke the silence and glanced back at the house. "What do you think of her, Buck?"

"She's soft and strong." He answered simply.

"Yeah. That's good."

Falling asleep with thoughts of lightning, Lark woke up to the sound of literal thunder. She jerked awake, thinking of Dakota, and rushing to the window to see the backyard where she'd tethered her. It was pouring, and with the pulsing glow of lightning far off she could make out the light grey of her horse and a darker silhouette jogging toward her. Pulling her boots on in haste, the woman stumbled out the door and downstairs to find the backdoor opened already.

A light was on in the garage and she made her way through the surge of water over toward it, relieved when James was in there fixing a spot for Dakota. "Thank you." She sighed, coming over to help him move some chemicals and tools to clear the area. "Your garage makes a decent barn."

"It'll do for a day or two." He wiped his hands on his pants and watched her shake out her hair over one shoulder before standing at the opening to look out at the storm.

"Yeah, I don't really want to ride out in this to get soaking wet and sick tomorrow." She smirked over at him.

"You're already soaked." The remark had a bit of mirth in it, and her smile blossomed.

"You are, too." Hands on her hips, Lark eyed him over her shoulder. "Turn that light off and come here." This earned a look of confusion and a tilted head not unlike her precious husky back home. Lark couldn't help but let a small laugh escape. "Do it, James. Come here and watch this rainstorm with me."

It was an invitation, and Bucky deliberated only a moment before reaching up to shut the light off by its chain and walk over close to her side. "Do you always watch the rain?"

"I like to. It's calming, and puts me in a good mood." She stood close enough to the edge that the wind would gust water onto her legs every now and then, but she didn't seem bothered.

"You are already so calm." James regarded her like a puzzle, and he found Lark to be a challenge in the solving.

Her blue eyes were caught glistening in the reflection of high-reaching lightning, and they looked up at him with gentleness. "I'll take that as a compliment, James." And there, she had taken a piece he thought he understood and turned it into a new thing entirely, yet still it fit together and began to fill her in within his mind. When she turned to face the storm once again, he realized he had never wanted someone to keep looking at him until now. Lark took a deep breath, closed her eyes and smiled, wrapping her arms around herself now that the cold actually seemed to touch her. Bucky was intently watching her breath come out in fog when she spoke almost in a sigh. "Isn't this nice?" _Nice_. He knew Steve used the word a lot, but it seemed so inferior to what was often described, a pleasant way to name a thing apathetic or mundane. Bucky didn't know how to describe what 'this' was, but it was certainly more than nice.

Lark glanced sidelong at him, but quickly studied the rain once more with a blush on her cheeks. He was still watching her, and it wasn't unpleasant. Maybe the alcohol had worn off enough to make her a little extra sensitive, but Lark really _felt_ his eyes on her. And yet, maybe there was still enough in her system to make her decision making questionable. "You can touch my hair if you like."

The words, quietly spoken though they were, seemed to startle him as though she had shouted in his face. But he didn't recoil, and his right hand actually rose halfway up behind her to reach for those damp curls. In the moment of courage that he touched her, Lark's head mimicked his tilted motion from earlier and pushed his fingers through until they grazed her scalp. James felt fully in possession of his senses when he moved his fingers through to comb and stroke the nape of her neck, caressing the length down to the tops of her shoulder blades and back up again, letting his knuckles tangle in those natural curls.

Lark, however, could not remember even turning to face him, let alone coming so close or closing her eyes to feel his fingers in her hair. "That feels nice." She registered breathing the words, whether in or out, she wasn't sure, but he heard.

"I don't like that word."

Furrowing her brow lightly, Lark managed to open her eyes and find him looking down at her with a gaze unfathomable. "Why not?" She whispered.

She noticed his jaw tense and release, how he fidgeted with his mouth when he didn't know what to think or how to say what he thought. Lark just waited patiently. "It's not strong enough." He decided finally.

With his right hand still slowly tracing through her hair, Lark took a deep, contented breath and leaned a little more into his touch. "Strong is good… but you don't always need strength."

Bucky couldn't help but think about what he'd answered Steve with before they turned in. _Soft and strong_. "You still need strength to be soft."

His counter was met with a slow grin and he watched her shrug, conceding to his point. "So how does this feel to _you_, James? What word would you use?"

"I don't know the word for it, yet."

"I'm okay with that."


End file.
